


Special Delivery

by queststar



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Idiots in Love, One Shot, POV Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Swan Queen - Freeform, Thanksgiving Dinner, Useless Lesbians, swanqueen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29296077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queststar/pseuds/queststar
Summary: There's a new package delivery woman and Regina is more than intrigued. Not that it means anything. Right?
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 56
Kudos: 269





	Special Delivery

The first time she sees her is in late spring when Regina is tending to her garden. A van pulls up and stops, and curiously, she looks up. A woman gets out from the driver’s seat, grabs a package, and heads to Regina’s porch.

“Hi,” the blonde woman says, and Regina can’t help to subtly study her features. Green eyes, sharp cheekbones. Her hair’s pulled into a ponytail, she’s wearing a baseball hat, impossibly tight jeans, and a tank top that shows muscled arms. Regina raises her eyebrows, quickly moving her eyes up to the woman’s amused face.    
  
“Can I help you?”   
  
The woman grins. “You can take this package I’m delivering.” 

"You're the delivery woman?"

"Yup. That's me. You want it?" She lifts the package.

“Put it near the front door, please, my hands are dirty,” Regina says, showing the dirt-stained hands, and as the woman continues her way towards the front porch she is really not watching those long legs in super-tight jeans. 

“Where’s the old man who usually does the deliveries?” Regina asks when the woman returns. The only package delivery guy in town is a man of age of whom nobody knows how old he is, with a very long scruffy beard and a bad temper. Or maybe that’s just when he’s delivering at her house. It’s not that her own temper is any better, most of the time - she has no patience for insufferable fools.

The woman grins. “He’s retiring. I’m taking over.” She tilts her head to see how Regina responds, but in true Regina fashion, her outside doesn’t show anything. Then, she shrugs. “So I’ll guess I’ll be seeing you.”

Inside, however, Regina’s thinking all kinds of things. The woman is very attractive. And as she nods and heads for her van, Regina can’t help but crane her neck to follow the way her hips sway in those tight jeans - maybe the woman throws in some extra - and the way her arms swing - gosh, those muscles - until she can’t see her anymore. Then, she scowls at herself. 

As her friend Kathryn would say, if she’s getting so flushed about her package delivery woman, she really needs to get laid.

She doesn’t, though, but can’t help but order another package she really doesn’t need. Because she’s… intrigued. Only a little. The track-and-trace gives her date and time, and she makes sure she’s home. It’s nothing, she tells herself. She just really hates to pick up her package at the neighbors’ houses. Talking about morons - her neighbors are the worst.

And as the doorbell rings and Regina moves to the front door, she automatically checks her appearance in the mirror and pats her hair. When she realizes it, she rolls her eyes at herself and scoffs. 

It’s the same woman again, same baseball cap, same blonde hair that curls and jumps around her face. Only this time, she wears an abhorrent red leather jacket, but her tight jeans make sure that she’s forgiven right away. Truthfully, Regina thought that maybe she had toned up the memory of the blonde, but no, she hasn’t. She’s exactly as she remembers. With slightly pink cheeks and narrowed eyes, she signs for the package and politely nods, before she closes the door. Well. That was pathetic,  _ especially _ for her.

But she really,  _ really _ needs more books. More supplies for her home office. More of anything, really. It has nothing to do with the woman who delivers them, she tells herself, but, okay, she will admit that it’s a nice addition. As her work is closeby and the delivery van usually makes its rounds around lunchtime, she makes sure to take her breaks at home in order to receive the packages personally.

“You know,” the blonde tells her one day, as Regina signs off on a package, “It might be easier for you if you, I don’t know, group your packages together? I mean, I’m delivering anyway, but your shipping costs are probably going through the roof.”

Regina waves it away. “It’s fine,” she says, and the blonde curiously looks at her. Regina feels a blush creeping up from her neck, and she scrapes her throat. “I just order when I need something.” She waves dismissively, but the way the woman tilts her eyes tells Regina that she’s not buying it.

“I’m Regina,” she then blurts out, and the woman smiles widely. “I know,” she grins, “I deliver your packages. Your name’s on them.”   
  
Oh. Of course. Regina feels even more flustered. But then the blonde says, “I’m Emma. Nice to officially meet you.” She extends her hand and automatically, Regina takes it. Emma has a firm grip, but Regina hardly notices because her skin tingles, and goosebumps rise when their hands meet and she quickly pulls back.

She really does need to get laid, she scoffs later. Regina doesn’t order online for quite a while after that. She feels a little embarrassed - really, ordering things to see a delivery girl? It’s insane. Especially for someone so refined as herself. She stubbornly tries to ignore the squirmish feeling in her stomach.

And when she finally really needs something, she makes sure she isn’t home on the day her package arrives. Maybe it’s childish, but she’s still not really over herself. However, since that particular summer day is searing hot, she does make sure there’s a cooler outside on the porch with a few bottles of water and a note for the mailman and her package delivery woman to take one if they want. It’s just considerate of people having to work in these hellish temperatures, Regina muses.

When she comes home that night, there’s a scribbled note with a smiley and a short, barely readable “Thank you! - Emma” stuck on the cooler, and Regina can’t get the smile off her face that night. But it doesn’t really mean anything. It was really just a nice gesture for people who have to work outside in that obliterating heat. She would probably have done that for anyone. Maybe if she repeats it often enough in different wordings, she’ll be able to convince herself.

Summer progresses into fall. Regina falls back into her regular routine. She now thinks fondly of the woman delivering her packages but hardly sees her, as she stopped going home during her breaks. It was a ridiculous infatuation anyway, probably caused by an instant feeling of loneliness, she thinks as the leaves start to fall from the trees. Only when there’s a package arriving on the weekends, she sometimes sees Emma, but she’ll shake her head at herself in the mirror whenever her heart leaps into her throat. Sometimes, that leap earns Emma a bright smile. Sometimes, she’s so annoyed with herself that she’ll respond gruffly, which the blonde simply shrugs off. In any case, Regina is back to being her polite self and makes sure not to accidentally touch.

Halloween is upon them. The houses in the streets are decorated in all different styles. Except Regina’s. She’s not really the most sociable of people and has never really cared much for these festivities. Then one day, when she comes home, there’s a carved pumpkin at her doorstep. “Noticed your house was a little under-decorated, so I fixed it :) - E.” reads the note that’s pinned to it. Regina blinks. Emma left this for her? 

It leaves her a little unsettled and she doesn’t know what it means. Does she do this for everyone? Just her? She feels awkward and weirdly happy and so, maybe she isn't completely over her mild crush. But the pumpkin gets to stay on her porch until after Halloween, until it nearly falls apart and with a little pain in her heart, Regina has to throw it away.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner. Regina gets a few invitations - some polite, from someone at work, some more heartfelt, from the few friends she has - but she doesn’t want to impose, nor does she want to spend the evening with deranged lunatics getting too drunk for themselves to handle. She doesn’t really mind not celebrating, usually, though she finds that on the day of Thanksgiving, there is a sense of loneliness as she sees everyone grouped together in the supermarket. It  _ is _ rather nice not to be as stressed out as they are, though, she thinks, but she wouldn’t have minded some company without all the fuss surrounding it.

Well, tough luck. She decides to make her comfort food - lasagna, with pepper flakes, her daddy’s recipe - and tiramisu for dessert. It is a holiday, after all, so she can indulge a little.

It’s a little after three when the doorbell rings. Regina abandons grating the cheese, washes her hands, and heads to the door. It’s Emma, with a package. One that Regina almost forgot ordering because she’s done so a long time ago - apparently it got stuck somewhere.    
  
“Thank you,” Regina smiles. Emma.

“No Thanksgiving party tonight?” Emma curiously inquires. Regina’s a little thrown off because they’ve stuck to formalities most of the time. But maybe there’s a hint of loneliness in Emma’s eyes too which she picks up on. She shakes her head.

“I’m not the celebration type.”

Emma tilts her head. “You’re not? Why?”

“I generally dislike people.”

That remark makes Emma throw her head in her neck and bark out a laugh. “For real? You wouldn’t say.”

Regina frowns, not really sure if Emma’s mocking her or not. “Is that so?” she says, narrowing her eyes.

“I’ve never had any problems with you.” Alright, maybe she’s not.

“Well, you’ve never been in my presence for longer than a minute,” Regina dismisses with a huff, but a smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. “There isn’t the time to dislike you.”   
  
Emma grins. “Well,” she counters, “in my experience, I can tell you, a lot of people can really dislike a delivery person in less than a minute. Try running a little late.” With that, she checks her watch. She’s probably delayed already, and Regina feels only a tiny bit guilty.

There’s a silence after that and Regina shrugs, a little uncomfortable with the silence. “Do you have plans for tonight?” she then suddenly asks, not really knowing where it comes from.

Emma tilts her head a little. “I have a date with my trusty old TV tonight,” she grins. But Regina thinks she sees a flash of loneliness in her green eyes and she feels it too, so before she even knows it, she blurts out: “Would you like to come over for dinner then?”

Emma takes a step back as if she recoils and Regina instantly feels like a fool. Of course, she doesn’t. Emma isn’t a friend. She’s a delivery woman. And she didn’t even know why she blurted that out the way she did. “Never mind, it’s silly, I-”   
  
“I, um, would love to,” Emma interjects swiftly. There’s a light blush on her cheeks - must be from the cold - “but are you sure? I mean, it’s not that you really know me or anything.”

Regina raises an eyebrow, her appearance not showing the gigantic wave of relief coursing through her body, and she raises the chin and narrows her eyes, looking slightly indignant. “I never say things I don’t mean.” But she does feel a little insecure. “It’s just lasagna, not a three-course meal. Nothing formal. Just… food. And drinks,” she adds stiffly.

Emma shares a lopsided grin and pushes her hands in the pockets of her coat. “Pasta? Sounds amazing. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Still got a few packages to deliver.”

“Oh. Okay.” Regina takes a step back now, too. “I’ll see you later then?”

“You bet,” Emma replies, smile widening before she turns and strides back to her van. And when Regina turns and closes the door, she feels strangely anticipated and butterflies flutter in her stomach. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just dinner between two people who would otherwise be alone at Thanksgiving. They’re doing each other a favor.

She’s a little nervous at first - what if Emma realizes that it’s weird and they don’t even know each other and simply decides not to show up? Does she need to change clothes? She looks at herself in the mirror. Her face doesn’t show anything but inside, the butterflies have caused a raging storm of emotions and feelings and everything until they ball into a tight knot and settle heavily in her stomach - especially because Emma doesn’t show up after the promised hour. The butterfly effect, she scoffs wryly. It makes her nauseous. And though she doesn’t change because this is _not_ a date, she does reapply her makeup and brings out her deep red lipstick because it makes her feel confident. And she checks her face every time she sees her reflection in the mirror or in the window.

Emma does show up, almost thirty minutes too late, which means Regina has been biting her nails for over thirty minutes. “Sorry,” Emma apologizes, shrugging off her jacket as Regina steps aside to let her in, “I got held up.”

“That’s fine,” and it’s really not because Regina hates people who’re not on time, but then again, Emma didn’t have any way to contact her. She contemplates offering her phone number but no, that puts it on a little too strong and makes it all too serious and she just can’t think about turning it into more than what it is. “Dinner’s almost ready. In the meantime,” she says, lips curling up in a smile, “How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you ever tasted?”

Emma doesn’t decline and follows her into the kitchen. Regina has decided against eating in the dining room, instead of setting the kitchen counter for two. She can do informal dinners like she told Emma. In the meantime, Emma simply looks around in awe. “Wow, this place is amazing,” she says, dropping on one of the bar stools near the counter.

“Thank you,” Regina simply says. “It belonged to my parents.” The conversation starts off a little rusty because Regina isn’t used to small talk. But Emma keeps it going by asking questions and telling about herself a little. She’s 28, moved to town this year, has had a wide scale of jobs all over the country but they never lasted for more than a few years. Regina listens and sometimes asks an additional question, and doesn’t want to think about the time Emma will quit her current job if none of them last very long. In return, Regina talks about her parents, her job at city hall, and how she’s been living here since forever. 

And then, the lasagna is ready and Regina serves Emma a plate. She knows it’s good, but having it confirmed by the blonde makes it even better. “Oh my god, this is delicious!” Emma exclaims after one bite of the lasagna. Regina simply smiles as she watches how Emma shovels the lasagna inside. 

“You don’t have to stuff yourself, there’s more if you want it.”

“Do I ever,” Emma grins, and when her plate is finished, she helps herself to a second filling. 

“You eat like a child,” Regina says, mildly disapproving but there’s a fondness lining her voice that she barely recognizes herself. Emma shrugs and shoots her an apologetic smile. 

Regina nudges over the salad to Emma, but she just looks at it, wrinkles her nose, and gives full attention to the lasagna on her plate. Regina huffs, rolls her eyes, and fills her own plate with the salad, instead.

The homemade tiramisu also gets an enthusiastic audience and Regina thinks about how nice this really is, to share food with someone who loves it so much as Emma does. And after dinner, Emma insists on helping to clean up despite Regina’s protests, and she rinses the plates before Regina puts them in the dishwasher. Regina feels at ease and realizes that this scene almost is… domestic. And maybe she likes it a little too much.

The evening ends way too soon. When Emma suggests she leaves it’s after nine and Regina can swear that there’s a little reluctance in the other woman’s voice but as she looks up to see it, Emma already pulls on her coat. 

Regina is nervous and her fingers twist. “Thank you for joining me tonight,” she says a little formally. “It’s better than eating alone.”

“I agree,” Emma says and she looks up. Her green eyes meet Regina’s and for a moment the time stands still but then she looks away. “I had a great time,” she adds light and smiles. Winks, even. “Way better than spending it with my tv, no matter how trusty he is.” It warms Regina’s stomach and tickles her heart, which instantly leaps to her throat. Her eyes flick to Emma’s lips before she looks up again and there’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there before and she doesn’t really know what to do. They stand there in the hallway, a little awkward, shuffling nervously, before Regina gets herself together, scrapes her throat, reaches past Emma who inhales sharply and opens the door. 

“Drive safely,” she says with a formal smile attached to her face, not knowing what to do but she really wants this moment to end because she hates feeling insecure and flustered.    
  
“Yeah, I will,” Emma replies in almost the same polite tone, quickly moving outside. Suppressing the urge to slam the door, she waits until Emma’s reached her car, and only then, she allows herself to softly close it. She leans her forehead against the white-painted wood. Well, that was weird. 

And, if she’s completely honest with herself, also a little disappointing. Her house feels strangely empty after Emma’s departure. But when she goes to bed she dreams of bright laughs and warm kisses and she wakes up all warm and tingly.

December arrives and even though there’s no family to celebrate with, she does decorate a little. She likes the coziness of the tree and asks Kathryn and her kids to help decorate, which they do without complaining - it’s way better to decorate two trees than one, after all. 

In the middle of the festivities, there’s Emma with another package. She has ordered a lot of gifts for Kathryn and her family, which she expects between now and next week, so her coming to the door isn’t really a surprise but it still makes her both nervous and excited. Also, she has something lying on the table next to the front door, waiting for a certain delivery woman. 

She drops the box she was carrying and rushes to the hallway, leaving a puzzled Kathryn behind. Automatically she checks the mirror, runs her fingers through her hair, and yanks the door open. And the cold blows in, but Regina doesn’t feel it because the moment her eyes meet shimmering green ones her body is warm and tingly and her cheeks turn pinkish. She hasn’t seen her for two weeks and is instantly propelled back to the weird way they left things. 

“Hi,” Emma says, a lopsided grin on her face and equally shifty. She hands over the two packages. She’s wearing a thick black long coat and a knitted hat on her head against the icy wind.

“Thank you,” Regina politely says. A door opens behind Regina and the boys’ laughter echoes through the hallway.

“Sounds like fun,” Emma replies, gesturing at the window behind which a blonde woman is carefully studying their behavior. 

“It is. My friend and her kids help me decorate the tree,” Regina says, clutching the package to her chest, her eyes quickly flicking over Emma’s face. 

“That’s nice. Do you have a real one?”   
  
“Every year.”

Emma chuckles. “I have a fake one. Desk-sized and always fully decorated. It’s not the same but at least it’s a little festive, right?”   
  
Regina smiles. “I guess it is better than nothing,” she agrees. She shivers a little and she’s not sure if it’s from the cold or her company, but Emma doesn’t miss it and interprets it as the first.

“You should go in, it’s freezing. I’ll see you around,” Emma says, digging her hands in her coat and turning around. 

“Emma, wait,” Regina calls out to her, suddenly remembering the gift on the table in the hallway. She takes the box from the table and rushes outside to her. Hands her over the box of chocolates she got from the local chocolatier - the good stuff. Emma takes it a little tentatively. 

“I just wanted…” Regina clasps her hands together and pushes them against her stomach. “I guess I wanted to say thank you. For everything. And, eh, merry early Christmas.”

Emma’s eyes have grown wide ever since she took the gift. “Um, thanks,” she murmurs, and she presses the box against her chest. She smiles widely but looks as awkward as Regina. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Regina says hastily. Emma nods, a small smile on her face. “Well, yeah - thanks. It’s really nice. I’ve got to, um…” She vaguely waves to her van, and Regina nods. And then, she leaves with big steps and for some reason, Regina experiences a sense of loss. She doesn’t really know what just happened but also doesn’t really have time to think about it as she returns indoors. Because when she enters the living room again, Kathryn eyes her like a predator, and Regina rolls her eyes with a huff, knowing what’s coming and knowing she can’t escape it. “That was interesting,” Kathryn says, looking at her through her lashes.

“What?” Regina huffs. 

“Your conversation with the delivery girl. You handing her a gift.”

“She was delivering a package and I was being nice,” Regina says dismissively.

Kathryn snorts. “Yeah sure. I don’t know what’s in that package you gave her but if it makes you look like you’d want to ravage that girl, I want it too.”   
  
“What’s ravage, mommy?” one of the boys pipes up, and Regina gasps in shock. 

Kathryn winks. “Grown-up talk, honey. Now, did anyone find the angel already?” she smoothly changes the subject, but Regina knows Kathryn isn’t done. 

Later that night Kathryn calls her, and reluctantly, Regina tells the story about Emma - the way they met, her infatuation in late spring and early summer, the pumpkin, and Thanksgiving dinner. “I didn’t know what came over me,” she confesses. “But I invited her and she came - I was actually surprised that she did.”

“Honey,” Kathryn sighs, “Even though you have a tendency to keep people at bay, you’re not unlikable. I mean, I’m still here. My kids like you. So stop telling yourself you hate people and people hate you.” It’s not the first time they had that particular conversation. “Do you like her?” because if anything, Kathryn isn’t subtle.

“Hm. Maybe.”

“It’s not a difficult question,” Kathryn scoffs. “A simple yes or no will suffice.” 

There’s a brief pause and Regina caves. “Alright. Yes. But what if she-”   
  
“Sweetheart,” Kathryn interrupts, “I just saw her this afternoon, and  _ trust  _ me, she  _ really _ likes you back.”

Regina trusts her, she really does, but this particular topic isn’t one she’s familiar with. And maybe she just doesn’t trust herself.

But there are more Christmas gifts headed her way and that particular idea makes her even more anxious because it’s scary as hell to tell someone you like them without being completely sure that they like you back. And then the doorbell rings and Regina rushes to the door, checks herself in the mirror as she’s done countless times before and she feels silly and a little light-headed and she reaches for the doorknob, pulls it open - 

And that’s not Emma. She frowns at the man carrying packages, waiting for her to take them. “Where’s Emma?” she blurts out and the man stares at her, wide-eyed.

“You might wanna take your packages, miss,” he says a little tersely, and yes, of course, so she springs into action. “She’s is sick, so I’m filling in.” He hands her the tablet to sign for the packages. “Getting sick during the busiest time of the year.” He snorts in disbelief. “We gotta cover for her.”   
  
“What does she have?” And in a sudden flash of panic she asks, “She didn’t quit, did she?”

The man stares at her, confused as to why she’s so worried about a delivery girl, as she hands back the tablet. “Not that I know. But she’ll be out with the flu for at least another couple of days.”

Regina’s heart sinks because it’ll be Christmas in a few days. She nods at the man and goes back inside. There are still a few gifts she’s waiting for and maybe Emma will be better before Christmas. 

The gifts arrive, but Emma doesn’t and Regina gets frustrated because she’d wanted to talk to her and her plan falls apart and she doesn’t really know what to do now. Why did Emma have to get sick in the first place? It almost feels deliberate. She works herself up, gets cranky because of it because it’s totally unfair but her stomach is twisting and turning upside down every time she waits for a delivery and it drops every time she opens the door and it’s not her.

And then it’s Christmas and Regina goes to Kathryn to celebrate and gives her and her family the presents she orders and gets some in return. But she feels off and of course, Kathryn picks up on it and it only takes two wines for Regina to spill her guts out. “I had wanted to talk to her before Christmas,” she laments.

Kathryn raises an eyebrow, bemused. “Even though I’m strangely enjoying this weirded-out behavior of yours, you’ve got to stop spiraling. She can’t help being sick, she didn’t get sick on purpose, and she’ll be on your doorstep again soon. Adjust your plan and move on, dear. It’s what normal people do. And hey -- the holidays aren’t over yet. New Year’s Eve is upon us.”

That is definitely true, but even though Regina hopefully orders a few more packages, there’s no Emma delivering them. And the day before New Year’s Eve, her heart has dropped and she just feels sad. She could care less about the gift now, but today, her temporary delivery guy has turned into her regular delivery guy because he informed her that Emma wouldn’t be returning because she was assigned a different route.

She locks herself in the house and brings out her cider and decides to get horribly drunk. And she’s well underway when she hears something outside. It’s late, it’s dark, she hasn’t bothered to put any lights on because the moonlight is enough to drink and it’s not that she’s in the mood for brightness and happy lights in general, but she sure as hell isn’t going to let people defile her property. Striding towards the door, she yanks it open and barks: “What the  _ hell  _ are you doing on my -  _ Oh.” _

“Hi,” Emma says shyly, hands in her pockets as tiny snowflakes stick to her hair - she hadn’t even noticed it started snowing in the first place. She rocks on her feet and looks as if she’s caught. “Um, special delivery? I… I just wanted to leave something for you.” She waves at Regina’s feet and automatically she lowers her head to see what it is. There’s a wrapped gift on her doorstep. “It was dark and I thought you weren’t home and-”   
  
“I am,” Regina crankily interrupts, moving her eyes back to the woman in front of her. “Home, I mean. I am very much home.”

Emma’s mouth twitches. “Yeah. You are.” She gestures at the package. “I’d wanted to give it to you before Christmas but then I got sick and… well. Happy belated Christmas?” She’s nervous, even a drunk can see that Regina thinks. 

Regina’s still cranky and tipsy and doesn’t really know why because she’d wanted to see her right? Here she is. And of course, she does the stupid thing and asks, “Why are you here?” It comes out a little accusatory and she takes a step forward, slightly swaying on her legs. It’s the snow. It’s slippery, she scoffs.

“I just said-”   
  
“No. Why are you  _ really  _ here?” 

Emma doesn’t say anything and she grabs Regina’s arm and for a moment Regina feels warm and fuzzy but then she realizes that Emma grabbed her arm because she has trouble keeping her balance and really, that realization irritates the crap out of her. Impulsively, she lunges forward, throws her arms around Emma’s neck, and presses her lips against Emma’s. And maybe she's a little drunk but she still feels how soft Emma’s mouth is and she sighs - 

And she’s hurt and maybe even a little heartbroken when Emma pulls back after less than two seconds. “Whoa. We can’t do this, Regina.” She sounds as hurt as Regina feels and she has no right because she’s the one who pulled back. Regina wraps her arms around her and drunk or not, forbids herself to pout and to ask why the hell not. And then Emma firmly wraps her arm around Regina’s shoulder and gently guides her back inside the house. Regina is only struggling a little because she's hurt in both her pride and hear heart.

Emma parks Regina on the couch in the living room and sits down next to her, and Regina, still cranky but also tired and the alcohol makes her eyes heavy, rests her head on Emma’s shoulder. “You smell nice,” she sighs, extremely content again with the way this evening progresses, and then her eyes are just heavy and Emma’s here and soft and she relaxes and falls asleep right then and there.

When she wakes up the next morning, she lies on the couch, face resting on Emma’s lap and she’s thoroughly embarrassed as she shoots up, hoping that her memories are simply dreams from a drunk woman but of course she has no such luck. Her movements wake Emma up too, who has apparently fallen asleep sitting up straight, hand resting on Regina’s chest. 

Shit, shit, shit.

“Good morning,” Emma murmurs, rolling her head, “How’s your head?”   
  
It’s surprisingly fine and maybe that flusters her even more. “It’s fine,” she huffs while she shuffles away from Emma and runs her fingers through her hair a couple of times to straighten it out. She feels her cheeks burn and she wishes the ground could open up and swallow her whole as she vividly recalls how she threw herself at Emma the night before. That wasn't her plan at all - last night was pathetic. “I’m sorry - you don’t have to -”

But Emma leans in and captures her lips and Regina freezes a moment, while Emma’s lips warmly move over hers, and then warmth floods through her and her blood sings and she eases into the kiss so easily. Her lips are soft and gentle and the kiss is delicate at first but then Emma’s tongue touches hers and a soft moan escapes her throat as she grants her access to her mouth. Regina’s heart dances in her chest and her stomach somersaults and she happily sighs against Emma’s lips, a soft fire burning in her stomach. “Why didn’t you let me do this yesterday?” she murmurs.

Emma chuckles softly. “You were drunk. I needed to know if you’d still like me when you had sobered up.”

“Oh. Yes. I like you. Still.” Regina’s heart pounds in her throat. “Very much.”

“That’s good. Because I like you too.” Emma strikes the hair from Regina’s face and tucks it behind her ear. Regina deflates a little, relief washing over her, heart swelling in her chest. 

“That’s good,” she sighs. “That’s very good.” And then she remembers something. “You got me a present?”

Now it’s Emma’s turn to look flustered. “I did,” she sheepishly said. She gets up, leaves for the hallway and returns with the small package she put in front of the door yesterday and hands it to Regina. She pushes her hands in her jeans pockets and hunches her shoulders. “It’s nothing big, I mean, it’s just silly.”

Regina looks from her to the package and carefully unwraps it. From the gift box, she pulls a mug, with the text “Special Delivery” on it. She chuckles.

“Well,” Regina says, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, “It’s really thoughtful. But that’s not it." She taps on the text on the cup, lifts her head so her lips are almost touching Emma's while Emma’s fingers softly wander over her back. Emma chuckles, her warm breath makes Regina shiver.

“It’s not?”

“No,” Regina smiles, content, before she caresses Emma's lips with her own, “Because it's you."  
  
"It's me, what?" Emma's eyes twinkle and Regina sighs, because goodness, she's really making her say it. And she thinks, fine, because she's here and she likes her and Regina can be the corny one, only this once. And she reaches over to take Emma's hand, laces their fingers together, and squeezes gently. 

"You are my special delivery.”

  
  



End file.
